


'Sides Push and Pull

by Sporadic_Writer



Category: Inception
Genre: Allusions to domestic violence, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 13:10:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6705649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sporadic_Writer/pseuds/Sporadic_Writer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames is willing to chase Arthur, but Arthur has to chase back too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story in 2012, and I am just archiving it here, so the author notes and etc. may seem outdated or out of context.

Status of work: Complete  
Characters and/or pairings: Arthur/Eames, past Mal/Cobb  
Rating: Mature  
Warnings, kinks & contents: Sexual activity described in detail. Domestic violence alluded to a few times.  
Length: About 7,300 words.  
Author's note: I thought it would be romantic if Eames kept doing sleight of hand with Arthur and managed to charm him that way. Of course, that doesn't mean the story is free of angst. I had a difficult time finding a suitable ending for the story, so I'd welcome feedback on it and other scenes.

Summary: Arthur does eventually fall for Eames, but in getting to know one another, they're finding differences that may be irreconcilable with the compatibility that they experience in dream work. 

 

Arthur arrived at the restaurant ten minutes later than Cobb. The maitre d’ led him discreetly to the table in the corner, near the kitchen and the emergency fire exit.

Cobb set down his water glass and gestured towards Arthur. “This is my point man, Arthur. Arthur, this is Eames. He’ll be taking over for Greggs.” Dom was smiling genuinely, and since he hadn’t sent message to Arthur not to come, it seemed that Eames had made the cut to be the new forger.

Arthur stared back at Eames as the other man looked him up and down. “Arthur,” Eames repeated thoughtfully. He leaned back and smiled slowly. “I can’t relax just yet then.”

Before Arthur could say anything, Eames shifted and placed one arm in front of him. His eyes bored into Arthur’s. Arthur’s danger radar pinged when the rough and loose man across the table morphed into someone almost cool and sharp—an impression that Arthur himself had been assured to give others.

“What can I say about you?” Eames asked rhetorically. “You’re a snappy dresser, that’s obvious. Now why? You don’t care that much about clothing. I don’t think you even bother to remember the designer unless you need those details to pull off a job. But the hair, the suit, the control you show—you’re an intimidating bastard.”

“What makes you think I don’t know the designer?” Arthur challenged, out of curiosity.

“If you did,” Eames smirked, “You would have interrupted me and proven me wrong five seconds ago.”

“What else do you notice?” Cobb asked, entertained. If Arthur didn’t think that the man needed a laugh or two these days, Arthur would have shut Eames down.

The hard way too, for being annoying.

Eames’ eyes turned half-lidded, and he regarded Arthur with a small smile. “I think I’d better stop while I have the upper hand. I think Arthur here could be a surprise and a half.”

“Something I bet people have said about you,” Arthur tossed back, closing his menu and giving his entrée order to the waiter who had appeared with baked apple Brie and crudités, raw marinated vegetables, for appetizers.

Later, with dinner finished and the meeting place details arranged, Arthur headed for his car, reaching into his pocket for his keys. He found them. But also something oval and foreign that crinkled in his fingers.

He held the object up to the parking lights and squinted at the lettering. See’s Candy Almond Royal Chocolate Bites. He palmed it thoughtfully.

Forgers were meant to observe, note, and analyze people’s choices. Eames would have been incompetent or lax to not notice that Arthur favored the Brie appetizer over the crudités, but then hadn’t touched the gourmet truffles that came with the bill. Of course, Dom hadn’t either, but Dom had also barely touched the slice of Brie that he’d carefully lifted to his plate and briefly nibbled before losing interest.

“Not one for sweets, are you,” Eames had commented before snagging equal portions of Brie and crudités.

“I’m not much of a fan,” Cobb had replied, ruefully. Arthur had kept his eyes on his own serving of Brie. Mal was the one with the sweet tooth, but she could always get Dom to enjoy himself by way of a kiss.

Almond Royal. Arthur’s favorite candy, sweet and salty—balanced.

Arthur sifted through his memories until he pinpointed two moments in which Eames could have slipped his hand into Arthur’s pocket. One, when Eames had gotten up to use the restroom and brushed against Arthur on his way past the table. Two, when they had put on their coats and headed for the door in a bunch.

Arthur went with the first option. The water level in Eames’ glass had barely changed from the time Arthur sat down. So, Eames was good. No, better than good. Which meant that Arthur needed to watch him.

********

Cobb stood in front of them with a marker and a standalone whiteboard next to him. The shadows under his eyes were darker. Arthur wished that he would stop torturing himself with photos of Mal.

“All right,” Cobb sighed briefly before pulling himself together. “The target is Cheryl Luong, a prosecutor for New York State Supreme Court. Our employer is Sandra Coleson, the wife of Nathaniel Coleson. Mr. Coleson is up for first-degree murder of his babysitter, Debra Abrams. Mrs. Coleson wants blackmail material to keep Luong from pushing the case.”

“Wait, I’ve read Yahoo! News. He probably did do it. Rich guy like him, they think they own you body and soul if they sign your paychecks. What a sicko.” Merritt thumped his fist on his leg.

Arthur raised an eyebrow at Cobb. They might have to get a new guy for topside if Merritt suddenly started caring about morals.

Twenty-four years old. Jailed for petty theft, cocaine use, battery, and solicitation. Merritt wasn’t clean. But he did have a younger sister who had gone the straight and narrow. Learning from big brother’s bad example, Arthur guessed.

“Can you handle it if he did?” Cobb asked abruptly. He looked hard at Merritt, who drummed his fingers on his leg before stilling, a dark expression growing on his hard features.

Arthur carefully reached for his gun and hooked his foot around the closest leg of the table they were sitting around. If they had to get rid of Merritt, Arthur had a long list of potential topsiders they could choose from. All a topsider really had to do was monitor their vitals and the time on the PASIV. But gang membership had bred loyalty into Merritt’s bones. Couldn’t be said for a last-minute replacement.

And the job had enough complications, especially with Nash, who was late again, and Arthur’s phone hadn’t vibrated with a damn good message why.

A sudden crisp clap from Eames broke the growing tension and forced Cobb and Merritt to look away from each other and glare at Eames.

Eames smiled brilliantly at them. “Well, then, my turn for show-and-tell. My sources tell me that we might want to watch ourselves with Ms. Luong. Rumor has it that Megumi and Dazik were hired to militarize her mind. It seems that it’s not uncommon for men like Nathaniel Coleson to take the easy way out.”

Arthur inhaled sharply. “About a year and a half ago, Cheryl Luong’s bank records showed a transaction of $80,000 to a so-called security firm. I could call Megumi or Dazik, but I doubt either of them would confirm it.”

Eames patted Arthur on the arm. “Well done.”

Arthur took Eames’ hand and pushed it firmly into the table. Eames flinched, and Arthur smirked.

Cobb looked frustrated and almost homicidal at the delay in planning. Arthur really should not have let Dom go back alone to his hotel room after those five shots of Russian vodka last night. Whenever Dom got drunk, he brooded over Mal, and that never led to good things the day after.

“All right then. We’ll have to do the extraction in two phases. In the first one, we can scope out Luong’s dreamscape and see just how well the training took. Most people pay for the training just to feel safe.”

Merritt snorted. “Word is the lady’s a ball-breaker. I’m not laying odds that she didn’t bully Megs and Daze into making sure it took.”

Eames twitched his lips. “Who wants to bet that Mrs. Coleson went to a bit of trouble trying to find a team willing to extract from a militarized mind?”

“Bitch,” Merritt muttered with low sounds of agreement from the rest of the team.

The camaraderie seemed to loosen Cobb up a little, and he seemed calmer as he mused aloud. “Mrs. Coleson didn’t seem to know much about extraction besides the basics. We could do a little more research into Luong’s past, find a few skeletons, and hand them over. Job over.”

Eames waved a hand languidly, as he stole a sip of Arthur’s coffee. “That could work, but we don’t want word to get out that we don’t keep our end of the bargain. We could change profiles—easier for some of us, I admit—but then the reputation benefits decrease drastically.”

“You have a better idea?” Cobb asked.

Eames smiled slyly. “Suppose we ask Ms. Luong?”

He continued, “We go into her dream. We let her know about Mr. Coleson’s loyal and dirty-dealing wife, and we let the savvy prosecutor give us her cue. She gives us a piece of past she won’t mind sharing, we hand it to Mrs. Coleson, and we get our money. Everyone goes their happy separate ways.”

“She’s paying us for blackmail material,” Arthur agreed, “We didn’t guarantee that her scheme to save her husband would work.”

Cobb looked down briefly and then nodded. “Let’s plan that out then.”

With things back on course, Arthur relaxed and contemplated stealing a sip of Eames’ drink in revenge.

The Luong job ended successfully after a few months’ work, and like the others, Arthur left town alone and discreetly.

He walked steadily to the subway station, got into the next train leaving, and stuck his hand in his jeans pocket, as he bobbed his head to his ipod, doing his best to look like a brain-dead teen.

The sudden alertness that lit his features would have given his cover away if anyone had been looking. Arthur pulled out a post-it with his stash of wintergreen gum.

Hair of the Dog

6 oz Bulldog Gin

½ oz fresh lemon juice

2-3 dashes of Tabasco

Slice of Chili Pepper

Arthur snickered unwillingly, and he thumbed the cardstock absently. Tonight, he would make use of his new scanner and send a copy off to Dom. He deserved a poke.

********

The old man sighed heavily as his shaking hand brought the brandy snifter to his lips. He looked at them with watery but earnest eyes. “I’m old. And I have been haunted by this for so many years.”

As he continued speaking, his voice turned more hoarse and more difficult to hear. “My wife and I—we had our difficulties. We were young, and our parents all pressured us into the marriage.”

He shrugged. “The old days were like that. Some couples managed to work it out, and I did find Leena so very beautiful, almost mesmerizing. We had our happy times. But she was such a stubborn woman. And she said I was such a stubborn man.”

Cobb shifted his legs, but his face remained calm and accepting.

“I started the affairs first. I was arrogant. I was foolish. I told myself that I was entitled. So, of course, she started having her own men. There was one rather handsome one. I accused Leena of being in love with him. Maybe she was, but still, I shouldn’t…I grabbed her.”

Mr. Adani stopped and buried his face in his hands. They listened to the grandfather clock tick past the seconds slowly. Arthur and Cobb exchanged a glance, as they settled on how long to wait for Mr. Adani to regain his composure.

Eames looked unbothered by Mr. Adani’s breakdown. Arthur could see his right hand beneath the table, continuing to take whatever notes he needed. Arthur tried not to feel curious about the unbelievable straightness of his handwriting.

Eames’ eyes met his, and Arthur shifted his gaze back to the clock. He felt a bit hot.

After the minute hand went round yet again, Arthur opened his mouth to prompt the old man, but Cobb beat him to it.

“And then what happened?” Cobb asked, neutral but somehow sympathetic, as he poured water into a glass and switched it for Mr. Adani’s snifter.

“I pulled her off balance. She was swaying. She couldn’t get her feet under her, and, and she must have hit her head somehow. We had all those fashionable post-modern art pieces in the room.”

Arthur frowned as he realized an omission in the story. “What about the boyfriend? He was there. What was he doing the whole time?”

Mr. Adani’s lips thinned. “We fought in front of Leena before she fell. When Leena stopped breathing, I told him to get out. To leave town. Leena was my wife, and I would take care of her. I was the one with the right to mourn her!”

Eames was already rocking on his heels outside the mansion when Arthur and Cobb came out after confirming the date of the job.

“So,” Eames remarked, “I felt for a second that we were doing a therapy session. He’s a morose, psychotic bastard who’s possessive beyond the grave.”

Cobb looked irritated. “He loved his wife, and he thinks he killed her. He’s paying us $100,000 to go into his mind and find out what exactly happened.”

“2:00 pm next Wednesday,” Arthur said to Eames tersely, effectively ending the potential argument.

“Of course, I’ll see you both then,” Eames clapped Arthur on the back heartily, leaving Arthur to stare after him suspiciously.

Cobb insisted on driving, a quirk that he exhibited after meeting clients who shook him up, so Arthur pulled out his iphone to check for messages from Jen, the architect, or Amin, the topsider.

After working three jobs with Eames, Arthur knew to expect Eames slipping something into one of his pockets by the end of each meeting. When his hand brought out nothing more than his phone this time, Arthur told himself not to be disappointed.

********

They were in Mr. Adani’s mansion—a very good replica, anyway. Jen looked around and whistled contentedly. “I am good. Very good.”

The living room walls were the same ivory damask with intricate vines that Arthur remembered from the meeting. Marble statuettes and stone sculptures towered on their bases toward the ceiling. As Mr. Adani had recalled, a few extravagant displays of twisted glass and steel dotted the wide expanse of the hardwood floor.

Suddenly, the beauty of the architecture became marred with streaks of blood, and the walls began to tremble, as a soft keening could be heard from somewhere in the house.

“This is a horror show,” Eames muttered, looking as unnerved as the rest of them.

“That didn’t sound like a compliment. Going to change your favorite movie now?” Arthur asked, partly to distract himself.

Eames gave him a wan smile. “The Rocky Horror Show is a cult classic, Arthur. I would hope you’d know that, with your vaunted point man skills.”

Arthur didn’t let on that he actually watched the DVD that Eames had slipped into his briefcase on the last job.

“You like those fishnet stockings, Eames?” Jen taunted playfully, keeping her eyes off the walls.

Eames smirked and blew her an elaborate kiss.

Oblivious to their play, Cobb had walked to the wall and put his open palm on it. He closed his eyes in a frown as he concentrated. He shook his head. “Dream’s steady. It seems that the shaking is part of the emotional atmosphere. I don’t think we have anything here. We’ll need to find Mr. Adani.”

“He said that he’s usually in the library, conservatory, or the wine cellar,” Arthur reminded them.

“With his dream mental state this ugly, I doubt he’d be reading or entertaining,” Cobb said. “We’ll probably find him in the cellar.”

“Guess that’s my cue to change,” Eames’ voice stayed low but turned husky and feminine, as he took on Leena Adani’s form.

Arthur watched him. Every time Eames forged, Arthur strained to catch the moment in which he changed from Eames to not-Eames. It reminded him of “Pop Goes the Weasel.” He never could catch it.

Eames brushed the long dark hair behind his shoulders thoughtfully and smoothed his hands over the burnished gold silk dress that brushed his ankles. He pulled a matching headband from nowhere and slipped it over his hair. Leena Adani looked young, beautiful, angry, and hurting.

She walked in front of them as they headed to the wine cellar. Cobb stayed right behind her. He rolled his shoulders and straightened his priest’s collar.

They had all laughed when Cobb outlined the scenario.

“That’s something to add to the resume. ‘Aiding and abetting in the impersonation of a priest’,” Eames said, amused. “But it could work.”

Arthur skimmed through his binder and then held up several photographs of Adani in a Catholic school uniform. “Even if he’s not a believer, childhood conditioning would still make him feel guilt-ridden around a priest, especially with these circumstances.”

“I’ll act as a generic priest. Adani’s subconscious will recognize me as the man he hired to find out the truth, and he should tell us what we want to know. With some persuasion,” Cobb said, with a look at Eames, who saluted him with Leena Adani’s diaries.

The cellar door was locked. Before Arthur or Jen could draw their guns, Leena threw herself against the door in a rage, snapping the chain and banging the door wide open.

Jen frowned at Eames’ back. Arthur wondered whether Eames’ vehemence in his forged personalities disturbed her.

In the far corner, Ranjeet Adani sat at the mahogany wine room table, surrounded with dozens of black-suited men. Mr. Adani and his projections looked up sharply at the loud bam, but they couldn’t see the team with the dozens of wine barrels in the way.

Arthur and Jen went their separate ways to cover the projections on opposite sides of the room, and Cobb waited in the shadows while Leena confronted her husband.

“Oh, oh, Leena!” Mr. Adani sounded horrified. The wine bottle he’d been sampling fell and broke on the floor as he stumbled backwards, away from his wife.

Leena stalked over to him, her eyes cold with fury, her small hands fisted, but then uncurling, as she reached for his throat.

“You cockless bastard!” She hissed in his face. “Man enough to run around on me, but not man enough to satisfy me, and you think you own me? You arrogant fool!”

Mr. Adani overcame his bewilderment to grip his wife’s wrists, trying to push her away from him and avoid the nails she aimed at his eyes. “Damn you, Leena, listen to reason! I was angry, and you kept pushing me! You told me you were going to leave with him. How could I just let you go?”

Husband and wife struggled and screamed at each other for a long tense moment before Leena was once again lying dead on the floor with Ranjeet looking down at her with mingled shock and despair. The sound of the projections’ shots continued to ring a while longer before dying down.

Arthur eyed the still body with interest. He wondered whether Eames was feigning death or was actually awake from the dream. If the latter, maybe Arthur would wake up to find Eames folding and tossing tiny origami stars onto his chest again.

“You keep skipping over that part in your memory,” Cobb observed quietly as he stepped into the scene and walked to Leena’s body, kneeling down and presumably checking her lack of pulse.

Mr. Adani kept shaking his head. “I didn’t—that’s not what I wanted. She frustrated me so much. I don’t even know what happened.”

“Yes, you do,” Cobb said simply. “Tell me what happened. You’ll never live in peace if you keep hiding.”

“No, I—“

“Ranjeet, tell me,” Cobb repeated compellingly. Then he added gently, “The Lord offers forgiveness to those who are humble enough to ask.”

Ranjeet stared hopelessly at Cobb’s collar before slowly walking to a nearby dusty wine frame and taking out a bottle of Chateau Mouton Rothschild 1982. His projections kept their heads lowered and their guns down. He handed it over and started to cry into his hands.

“He did it on purpose,” Cobb sighed. “He got mad and threw her to the ground and cracked her skull. He’ll get no solace in remembering.”

Arthur kept one eye on the road as he steered the car and grabbed a bottle from the case of Newcastle Brown Ale that had appeared in his car. He gave it to Cobb. Silence.

“Huh, it’s good,” Cobb said, vaguely surprised. “Are you trying out what it’s like to be Eames, or is this another one of his gifts?” Arthur could hear the teasing smile.

“Nothing there, Dom,” Arthur lied, even as he enjoyed the memory.

He hadn’t done it for any lecherous benefits.

It had been a matter of professional pride after all those times Eames had stuck his hands in Arthur’s clothing. And he couldn’t get better timing with Jen coming up just beside him when he went for it. Eames had felt something, but judging by the spooked look he gave Jen, he obviously didn’t suspect Arthur. Eames would know better after he opened his money clip to find the smiley face sticker. Arthur had felt petty satisfaction in choosing one that blew a raspberry.

“Mmhmm.” Cobb raised an eyebrow but kept his peace.

********

Arthur was considering lunch when his phone vibrated with an incoming call from Cobb. Bad sign. It was three days after they had finished an espionage job for Wellan-Tanger Corporation in Amsterdam, Netherlands. He flicked open his phone with trepidation.

“Studder, Inc. put a hit on us. The CEO didn’t appreciate the sudden hole in their market gains. They’ll start looking in Amsterdam first, so I’ll have time to call in a favor to get the hit cancelled, but I warned Nash and Martinez since they planned to stick around.” Cobb paused.

“Eames isn’t answering his business phone. Does he have a personal one?”

Arthur frowned. Cobb was the one who always contacted Eames. Arthur could hunt down his personal phone number, if he had one, but he might not find Eames before the hitmen did if the forger was still in Amsterdam. Wasn’t the city known for its quality beer?

Arthur sighed and opened his contact list, searching for Elisa, his favorite information Hubber. She should be back from her biannual break. He skimmed to the E’s…

What? When? Well, Arthur hadn’t left the Adani meeting without a surprise from Eames after all.

“You’re a lucky man, Mr. Eames,” Arthur murmured to himself, as he hit dial for the contact Eames 2.

“Hello, Arthur,” Eames said smoothly.

“Where are you?” Arthur interrupted. “Studder, Inc. put a hit on the whole team. If you’re still in the country, get out.”

“Were you worried, Arthur? Relax, I’m nowhere near the Netherlands.” Eames sounded like he was holding back a laugh.

“Then play it safe until Cobb contacts you again,” Arthur said shortly. Then, unable to help himself, he asked, “What’s so funny?”

“That depends on your answer to my question,” Eames countered. “We’ve worked five jobs together. How long have we known each other, Arthur?”

If Eames didn’t sound so serious, Arthur would have cut him off. “About three years, give or take.” He wasn’t going to ask why Eames wanted to know.

“That’s a long time,” Eames mused, a hint of laughter still in his voice. “Don’t you think it’s time we had our first date? The food around here is wonderful.”

“You followed me from Amsterdam Airport Schiphol,” Arthur surmised. “I guess I should be flattered you took three unnecessary flights just to stalk me and follow me home.”

“Nice conclusion, but no cigar. Here’s a riddle for you: suppose there’s a man in a dangerous sort of job, and he likes to take random flights to get back home. That’s you, by the way. Now suppose there’s a second man in a dangerous sort of job, and he also likes to take random flights to get back home—well, one of them. By coincidence, those two men might actually—“

Eames’ singsong voice was not attractive, Arthur thought. “Thanks, I can make the leap,” he said dryly. Maybe he should stop sleeping on the flights home. He hated to think that he was getting unobservant.

“Well?” Eames prompted. “You’ve been flirting back, so I assume you’re interested. It’s 1:00. Sounds like lunch to me.”

“All right, you asked, so I get to choose the restaurant.” Then, feeling a little sheepish, Arthur offered, “You like Indian. There’s a good place on the corner of Third and Main.”

"I see we have more and more in common. I'll see you in fifteen. Maybe less if I don't bump into the police," Eames purred. "You go ahead and order when you get there. Surprise me."


	2. Chapter 2

Status of work: Complete  
Characters and/or pairings: Arthur/Eames, past Mal/Cobb  
Rating: Mature  
Warnings, kinks & contents: Sexual activity described in detail. Domestic violence alluded to a few times.  
Length: About 7,300 words.  
Author's note: I thought it would be romantic if Eames kept doing sleight of hand with Arthur and managed to charm him that way. Of course, that doesn't mean the story is free of angst. I had a difficult time finding a suitable ending for the story, so I'd welcome feedback on it and other scenes.

Summary: Arthur does eventually fall for Eames, but in getting to know one another, they're finding differences that may be irreconcilable with the compatibility that they experience in dream work.

 

“I have such fun working with you, Cobb,” Eames said conversationally after he finished puking. He dry heaved a few more times before adding apologetically, “Not that I’m unaware of your handsome presence, Arthur.”

“This is insane. What the hell were we thinking to do this?” Jen grimaced as she wiped vomit from her chin.

Cobb tossed back some Pepto-Bismol tablets and passed around the bottle. “The client warned us that his daughter had a strong phobia of rabbits. We underestimated how much she loathes even the mention of them.”

Jen glared at no one in particular. “Pepto-Bismol isn’t going to help me forget being keel-hauled in the beach.”

Arthur was pissed. He brushed desperately at his legs. God, he could still feel the stings from the jellyfish. “Why does Kloppmann care whether his daughter likes rabbits anyway? She’s eighteen years old!”

“Because being afraid of Mr. Fluffy Tail is a bad sign for the future heiress of a major textiles company,” Eames reminded him with a sour look that indicated his own disapproval of the situation.

Despite her earlier anger, Jen looked disgusted on the girl’s behalf. “Her father’s a complete bastard. I did surveillance with Eames, and you know what we saw? He took potshots at her weakness literally every half hour. Once he actually shoved a rabbit into her face!”

Eames shrugged. “With great inheritance comes great emotional abuse.” His voice held a certain something that made Arthur look at him sharply.

“We’ll have to come up with a new plan,” Cobb said wearily. “But let’s wait until tomorrow. I’m guessing everyone needs some time to process.”

They all mumbled in agreement before heading for their respective hotels. Arthur packed his files for further review that night and waited for Eames to choose from his myriad notebooks.

“Want to come and look at my passport collection?” Eames flirted.

Arthur laughed. “Your what?”

“Well, you wouldn’t want me to lie to you. I haven’t got any etchings, sorry.”

“Hm, okay, as long as I get to, uh, handle your passports.” Arthur smiled back.

Arthur pulled away, panting, to slide his card key through and yanked Eames with him into the room and onto the bed. They kissed and kissed, hands starting to roam around rather personal areas. Arthur tilted his head back and let Eames nibble up his neck and along his jaw, careful not to leave any marks. Arthur moved his hands up to Eames’ neck and felt him flinch. He started rubbing firmly in circles, looking for the sore spots.

“Mmm, Arthur, yes,” Eames murmured gratefully. “Ugh, I still feel the whiplash.”

“Turn over.” Arthur helped him pull off his shirts and gently pushed him to lie on his stomach.

Arthur smoothed a hand over Eames’ back, enjoying the feel of warm skin and compact muscles against his palm, as he laid soft kisses down the spine. He dug through his luggage for a tube of lotion and coated his hands. He went back to Eames’ neck and rubbed, careful of the throat, until his lover’s eyes blinked closed. He moved on and kneaded the shoulders hard, knowing that Eames liked a firm touch for those strained muscles.

Eames tensed and grunted at the first couple of pushes until the pain dissipated into a pleasant soreness. He relaxed further into the covers.

Arthur continued with the shoulders, pushing his thumbs firmly above and below the blades, alternating with whole-handed squeezes. Eames was nicely broad, but Arthur had long enough hands to give him a decent massage.

Eames hummed softly, and one eye slid open, so Arthur could tell he wasn’t asleep, but it looked like he was getting there.

He traced Eames’ spine to the lower back and, making a fist with one hand, dug sharply into the curve.

“Uh,” Eames inhaled sharply.

Arthur stopped short. “Too rough?” he asked.

“No, it’s good. Lost a lot of tension there.” Eames sighed softly, as Arthur repeated the motion a few times before moving back to his shoulders, kneading all around. He did one more pass down Eames’ back and ended by leaning some of his weight against Eames and pressing the heels of his palm up and down.

Eames let out a shuddering breath and then turned round to rest on his back. He smiled sleepily at Arthur before cupping the back of his neck to draw him into a deep kiss.

Arthur could feel Eames soft and calm against his thigh. Eames kissed his nose and asked playfully, “So, what can I do for you, Arthur?”

“You could let me get us a bit more naked,” Arthur suggested as his hands trailed down to Eames’ belt. They finished undressing, and Eames pulled Arthur back down against him. He snagged the lotion off the nightstand and smoothed a handful onto Arthur’s cock, his fingers playing and teasing. Arthur groaned with pleasure and need, and smiling hotly at him, Eames lay back invitingly.

Arthur moved between his lover’s strong thighs and eagerly thrust back and forth in the tight space. His movements became smoother as the lotion rubbed into Eames’ skin and made it softer and silkier.

Eames tipped his head up and kissed him lightly and briefly each time their faces came close. Arthur tried to deepen the kiss, but Eames kept dodging with a smirk. His eyes dared Arthur to do something about it.

Eames was still soft against him, and he probably wouldn’t get hard, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy himself too. Arthur encouraged Eames to wrap his legs loosely around his waist, and he changed the angle of his thrusts, letting him rub more firmly against his lover’s cock and balls, especially the rather sensitive area just behind them.

They both moaned breathlessly, and their hips moved together quickly, trying to find a good rhythm despite the sweat making their limbs slip and slide.

Arthur thumbed a nipple and watched it harden as Eames’ eyes darkened with lust before moving onto the other one and favoring it with a kiss as well. Eames jerked slightly with the pleasure and held Arthur’s head to his chest for a moment before letting go.

Eames ran his fingers through Arthur’s hair and combed it away from his face, so he could explore Arthur’s mouth thoroughly.

The kiss hit Arthur’s system with a jolt, and his breathing grew heavier as he thrust faster and harder. Eames pressed his thighs closer together around Arthur’s cock and watched as the extra pressure pushed him close to climax.

“Oh, yes,” Arthur breathed, mouthing the clavicle below his lips. He licked up to the throat and kissed a nicely curved jaw.

“Come on, you’re close,” Eames said lowly into his ear, one hand still playing with his hair.

Arthur’s body stiffened with one last push, and he collapsed onto Eames as the pleasure shook his body forcefully, leaving him limp with little tremors still running through him. He blinked the sweat out of his eyes and rested his head against Eames’ neck.

Eames relaxed his legs, letting them fall back to the bed with a satisfied sigh. He continued to hold onto Arthur tightly.

“You’re all mine,” he said softly to the top of Arthur’s head.

They cleaned up perfunctorily, tossed off the sheets, and slept.

********

“No.” Eames’ voice was cold. He shut his phone and tossed it at the desk but missed, and it fell onto the floor with a clack.

Arthur furrowed his brow at the technology being abused. “What’s wrong?”

“Dazik, that bloody woman won’t take no for an answer.”

“You haven’t liked her since that Mudwerk job,” Arthur commented. Dazik was a brilliant extractor who could give Cobb a run for his money, but she was also known to be difficult. Not that Eames didn’t have his moments.

“No, I’m just not tempted. I’ve done three jobs in a row. Time for me to live in reality for a while and enjoy its perks.” Eames’ mood seemed to improve, and he rolled onto the bed with Arthur, their faces close together.

When he blinked, his eyelashes brushed against Arthur’s cheek. Arthur pulled Eames’ head onto his shoulder and began scratching gently with his nails.

It wasn’t the best time to bring it up, but Arthur had to leave in two days. “Cobb has another job lined up—more corporate espionage. The target’s a senior project manager. We’ll need at least five months.”

“Oh?” Eames seemed unconcerned, and Arthur relaxed. “Well, I’ll keep myself busy. I have a new con I want to try out in Monte Carlo. If it’s successful, I’ll show it to you. I know you like to watch.” Eyes hooded, Eames guided Arthur’s head closer for a kiss.

“Where should I pick you up?” Eames added suddenly, back to domesticity.

Arthur tensed. “We have another job after that. Corporate espionage again. With the poor economy, all the companies can use a leg up. Legal or otherwise.”

Eames was silent.

“Babe?” Arthur prompted softly, feeling uneasy at the eyes that suddenly refused to meet his.

“You just came back from a job a week ago,” Eames noted, almost neutrally.

“Cobb wants to support Phillipa and James the only way he can right now—financially. Anyway, being busy keeps him from obsessing over Mal and turning into a mess,” Arthur said quietly.

“Cobb.” Eames rolled onto his back. He reached an arm out and began tapping on the dresser, one of his few tells and one he only showed in front of Arthur.

“Hey,” Arthur leaned over him and tried to meet his eyes. “I like my job.”

“Of course you like your job,” Eames said irritably. “I like my job too. But I have a life outside of it. I haven’t doomed myself as someone’s eternal shadow.”

Anger flared up in Arthur, and he tried to tame it, but damn it, he hated when Eames suggested that he had a limited mind. Eames seemed intent on equating the point man role to that of a stooge: someone who was needed but not to be respected.

“Some people have responsibilities,” Arthur said tightly. He moved to the edge of the bed and sat up. He smoothed back his hair. He couldn’t hide his growing resentment. “Dom needs me.” 

Dom respects me. Dom appreciates me. Dom never made fun of me for being organized.

“Some people,” Eames repeated with a sneer twisted into the words. “I can tell you think I don’t belong in that category of mature responsible people.”

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. He hadn’t meant to phrase it that way, but he couldn’t honestly say that Eames didn’t seem immature now and then. What grown man could read a recipe and then decide to completely disregard it?

They sat without talking, and the silence stretched out. Finally, Eames left for the kitchen, and his toneless voice echoed back to Arthur, “I’ll order some takeout.”

********

“Cobb is insane, and you’re joining him on his trip to hell,” Eames said flatly. He didn’t even have the courtesy of waiting until they were out of earshot.

“Kenneth Darbin has a lot of influence. A favor from him would be very useful.”

“Favor’s only valuable so long as you’re actually alive to use it,” Eames snapped.

He continued edgily, “The surveillance shows that Daniel Kim suffers from psychosis. He may have the schematics in his mind somewhere, but Darbin should have gotten them out of him before he suffered an irreparable breakdown.”

Arthur felt a bit exasperated. Eames was the one who always proclaimed that there was a way. “People suffering from psychosis are prone to hallucinations, delusions, and thought disorder, not violence. Granted, things will be more complicated since his dreaming mind will be even more nonsensical than the usual person’s.”

Arthur tried to lighten things up. “Maybe it’ll feel a little like Alice in Wonderland.”

Eames stared at him in disbelief. “You’ve already agreed to do this. You didn’t even bother to talk to me first?”

“Eames, if you want to take a break, then go ahead. Cobb knows we’re not a package deal.”

“That’s not the point, Arthur. Maybe Kim’s mind won’t be violent, but think about this: you’re going to be in the same dream as him. You’re going to share the same consciousness, and he’s not right in the head. Something could happen to your mind.” Eames’s lips were pinched.

“Babe,” Arthur said, touched at the concern. “We’ll be careful. I just got started on the research component. I have resources. Elisa might be able to help me find a neuroleptic that can stabilize his mind for the dream.”

Eames pulled away from him. “You’re still doing it then.” He shook his head with a bared teeth smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “You’re a loyal man, Arthur.”

When Arthur came back from the job (unsuccessful since Kim’s psychosis completely disrupted his ability to access the part of his mind responsible for the schematics), Eames had packed his belongings and left without a note.

Arthur opened a new bottle of Merlot and asked himself why he wasn’t hurt.

***************

Eames didn’t seem all that different. He seemed cool and amused as he always had been, and he showed no signs that they used to have a relationship.

“I know we haven’t worked with Eames in a while,” Cobb had said, bemused, “But it hasn’t been that long. He sounded—well, never mind.”

“What?” Arthur hated himself for wanting to know.

“He just commented on the fact that I was still working with you.” Cobb shrugged and then laughed a bit awkwardly. “Like he hasn’t seen you or talked to you since the last job we all had together.”

Ariadne’s presence helped prevent most of the awkwardness. Arthur explained totems and demonstrated some tricks for dream architecture. 

Eames explained kicks and entertained Ariadne with his enthusiasm for Yusuf’s sedative tests, which landed Arthur onto the floor on a regular basis.

“Coming, Arthur?” Eames asked carelessly.

Arthur slowed on the keyboard, as Eames’ words penetrated his brain. “What?”

Eames gestured to Ariadne, who was holding a brand new digital camera (a gift from Saito, whose flaws did not include parsimony). “Ariadne here needs some additional photos of Fischer Senior’s hospital and the surrounding area. I myself need more long-distance quality time with Browning. And you, I imagine could give us some much needed FYI.”

Try as he might, Arthur couldn’t think of an excuse not to go, not without sounding like he was deliberately trying to avoid Eames.

As they waited in the car for Ariadne, the silence nibbled away at Arthur’s concentration. He resented Eames for calmly and continuously taking notes on Browning’s habits, posture, and gestures, hands alternating among pencil, ink, and pastels. Arthur suspected the latter was just for Eames’ amusement.

Arthur glanced out the window at the park where Browning had taken his lunch and was currently finishing up a pudding cup. He didn’t know why Eames had insisted on staying inside the car.

Irritated by his own discomfort at Eames’ close proximity, Arthur opened his laptop to double-check his interpretation of Fischer Senior’s epic will.

A hand landed on top of his laptop and pushed the cover back down with a gentle clack.

“You don’t have anything to say to me?” Eames asked. His challenging tone ensured that Arthur made eye contact with him.

“I don’t usually have much to say to people after they break up with me,” Arthur responded as evenly.

“Is that what I did?” Eames mused.

“You took everything and left.” Pause. “I think you even washed your share of the breakfast dishes.”

Eames’ eyes darkened, but he spoke lightly. “I can see you have very clear-cut ideas of when a relationship ends, Arthur.”

“I’m not the one who wouldn’t talk it out,” Arthur threw back, the hurt mounting up from the depths from which he had sunk it months ago.

Eames flushed but didn’t back down. “I’m not the one who uses a pet name as a panacea.” He was about to continue when Ariadne knocked on Arthur’s window. Eames reorganized the papers in his lap and cheerfully asked Ariadne whether her time had been well spent.

As they got out of the car, Ariadne went ahead, and Eames pulled Arthur back. He didn’t say anything, just searched Arthur’s face for a long moment, and then let go.

They weren’t finished yet.

Coda:

Arthur pushed open his apartment door and met total darkness. He’d seen Eames get on and off the same flight home and grab a taxi while Arthur was still waiting for his luggage at the carousel. He must have been mistaken about the near-flirtation in the dream hotel room, or maybe it was the Suspension Bridge Effect.

Arthur thought about having a glass of water and heading to bed. But he had something he wanted to say to Eames. And he didn’t want Eames to think that he really was a stick-in-the-mud, someone who was stuck in a box and unable to find his way out. He grabbed his key ring and headed out.

“Hello, Arthur,” Eames said, and he waited.

“Hey,” Arthur exhaled harshly into the phone. He remembered the first time he fell over a high bridge in a dream. He’d woken up gasping with chills down his spine. He felt that same shaky fear now.

“Would it surprise you if I told you that I do love and respect you, even if you drive me crazy sometimes? Even if I let you go?” After their first date, Arthur had starting keeping track of how long they’d been together and how many things he knew about Eames. Arthur had a whole notebook filled out, and he’d gotten started on a second when things ended. He refused to accept that everything they had together could disappear so easily.

Eames was quiet for a bit. “No. But I needed to hear it.” He laughed humorlessly. “God, we were quite nasty about poking and prodding each other, weren’t we.”

“We were still learning to compromise.” And then you left, Arthur didn’t add.

Eames seemed to hear the sentiment anyway. He sounded shamefaced, as he said, “I don’t want to change you, Arthur. I didn’t slip a sweet into your pocket because I thought you’d be someone different. 

“But you frustrate me. Sometimes I just want to go off—not alone, mind you, with you, of course—but sometimes I don’t think you can do that, you can’t be free, with me.” The stumbling words stopped, sounding plaintive in Arthur’s ear.

Arthur didn’t really know what to say. They needed more than just this one conversation in which they both felt like being honest. “I’m outside,” Arthur whispered. “I’ll wait for you.”

“Arthur—“

“Run away with me.” Spur-of-the moment and nothing to lose.

Pause.

“Where are we going?” Eames asked, the smile back in his voice.

“You’ll see.”

Eames laughed appreciatively.


End file.
